


Big Hands

by Violet_Jones



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sedation, dental anxiety, dentist!Ian, nothing too graphic, particularly of the mouth, talk of needles and medical procedures, writer!Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9021886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Jones/pseuds/Violet_Jones
Summary: Mickey is a writer with a terrible tooth ache. Ian is the dentist who fixes it.Gallavich Gift Exchange 2016. Happy Holidays!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElfyDwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfyDwarf/gifts).



Mickey stared at the blank screen of the computer in front of him willing himself to get an idea. . . _any_ fucking idea that he could remotely tolerate. He had a small list of topics on stand-by, but he wasn’t in the mood for any of them. The main problem, however, was the sharp pain radiating from the back of his bruised jaw. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else through the continuous throb. He should’ve just left that freaking little old lady by the train to accept her fate as an obvious target for petty theft. I mean, she was old enough to know better after all. But no, apparently Mickey fucking Milkovich was now some kind of a good samaritan, everyday hero type guy.

He’d merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, standing too close to an attempted purse-jacking by some asshole that wasn’t even carrying any kind of weapon. He was bound to knock the poor old gal over and bust her hip as a result, so Mickey had instinctively reacted, stepping in to clock the guy a good one right in the eye. He stumbled back, but regained his balance and squared back up to Mickey. The major mistake was in trying to react to a right hook, when the scumbag ended up being a goddamn southpaw. That’s how Mickey had ended up getting socked a hard one across his jaw and knocked to the dirty ground of the L train platform clutching his face. But Grandma Moses was still on her feet, and she’d kept her purse. The would-be thief had run off without it.

And now, a couple nights later, his mouth was aching more than ever, and he was about to fail to meet his deadline for the first time since he’d started writing professionally, because he couldn’t think for shit in his distressed state.

He sighed loudly in exasperation and picked up the ice pack again, pressing it to his tender cheek. It was one of those old-school cotton-covered rubber ice bags that you fill with cubes from the tray and cap off on top. It was one of the only possessions Mickey had that used to belong to his mother. The ugly, medical scrub green of the fabric was faded and stained, now some kind of twisted testament to the years of bare-minimum soothing it had done to the many swollen body parts he and his siblings found themselves with over the years. There’d been more than one of those ice bags stored in the kitchen cupboard back then, and they probably had about ten plastic ice trays crammed into the freezer at any given time.

Fuck, Mickey should probably just burn the thing.

He reached out a hand and slammed his laptop shut a little too forcefully, leaning back in his chair, tilting his head back, and closing his eyes as the cold worked to counteract the constant pulsing of nerve-endings setting one whole side of his face on metaphorical fire.

He was gonna have to haul his ass in to see some creepy dentist and get his shit looked at. Something obviously wasn’t right inside his mouth. He was too afraid of mouth-related gore to even really probe his own injury much from the inside.

He fucking hated the dentist.

Mickey tossed and turned all night, writhing dramatically in pain. When he was ill or hurting like this, he tended to get these flashes of desire for domesticity that he never otherwise entertained. When he felt all helpless and terrible, he reverted to wanting someone to take care of him. His mom had done that for him when he was little, before she died. He’d had a boyfriend once upon a time that had looked after him through a couple of bad viral infections, flus, and the like. It was cool when you got to just ask for something and get it, just because you’re a little weaker than usual. . . like a free pass to be pampered and catered to, because no one expected you to even try to lift a finger yourself. You got to whine and complain, and sleep all day, and then wake up to hot soup and Gatorade.

But Mickey didn’t have that luxury. He was a single adult man, and he has to look after himself at all times. He couldn’t just check out and give up the reigns when things got rough. As soon as the clock hit 8 am, he called his insurance provider and got a list of dentists he could call around to. He booked the first appointment available and dragged his ass into the shower to get ready for this shit that he was in no way prepared for.

What he also ended up not being prepared for was a dentist who was not only decidedly non-creepy, but more than just not giving him the heebie-jeebies, he was incontrovertibly fucking _hot_.

“Milkovich?” he’d asked when he walked in the exam room, and Mickey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he took him in.

No way this fucking guy could be a dentist. He should’ve been laughed right out of the dental academy, or wherever the fuck he went, just on principle. He was all long limbs and buff lean muscle, obvious under the white lab coat, and more than anything, that fiery orange hair sitting atop an irrefutably handsome face. The most disconcerting thing of all, though, was that he looked extremely young.

“Yeah?” Mickey asked in a doubtful tone.

“I’m Dr. Gallagher,” he said, smiling and tossing himself onto one of those rolling metal stools, “but you can call me Ian.” He then offered his large hand for the shaking.

“How the fuck old are you, man?” Mickey inquired, as he tentatively accepted the formality.

Ian chuckled, releasing his hand. “I’m 28. That okay with you?”

Mickey shrugged, but still looked apprehensive. “Never been to a doctor younger than me before. Kinda weird. You got enough experience to be pokin’ around inside my mouth? I’m sore as fuck, and I already don’t like people bein’ in my mouth.”

The guy smiled widely again and quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll try and remember that.”

Mickey felt a rush of heat as caught the double meaning of Ian’s response. ‘ _Holy shit, did the hot young dentist just make a gay sex joke_?’ Before he had any time to react, however, Ian was talking again.

“So. . . you have a severe tooth ache after a nasty punch to the jaw?” he asked, studying the chart.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“How long has it been hurting?”

“Happened a couple nights ago, and last night the pain started gettin’ really intense. Didn’t sleep too good.”

Ian looked up and set the chart aside, scooting closer to Mickey. He reached out as if to grab him by the chin, and Mickey flinched, pulling away.

“I was just going to look at the bruising on your jaw first. You really that skittish about oral stuff?”

“I mean, I just don’t like mouth injuries or the idea of mouth wounds. I’m not a fan of like tooth horror, you know?”

“Ok. Well, first I just need to look inside your mouth and try to figure out what’s causing all the pain, and then we can worry about potential surgery options.”

“ _Surgery_!” Mickey practically yelled, eyes going wide as saucers. “What the fuck you mean, surgery?”

“Relax, Mickey. I won’t know anything until I take a look, and then we’ll talk about it first, okay?”

Jesus, now Hot Dentist was having to talk to Mickey all condescendingly, like a small child, because he couldn’t even keep it together to _discuss_ things like needles and scalpels in his fucking mouth of all places.

“You don’t have to baby me, alright? I just have a bit of a. . . phobia, I guess.”

“Dental anxiety is a common thing, I can attest. I’ll do everything I can to make you comfortable, alright?” He paused. “In fact, I think it may be best to go ahead and give you a small dose of nitrous oxide. All it’ll do is calm you down so I can start the examination, and then if we need to make any further decisions, you won’t feel so panicked, okay?”

“You mean that happy gas shit?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” said Ian.

Mickey shot him another skeptical look. “You better not be tryin’ to take advantage of me or some shit,” he warned.

Ian tittered again and shook his head. “An assistant will be in here with me the whole time, I can assure you.” He rose from his stool. “Sit tight for a few minutes, and I’ll be back shortly.”

Mickey watched him leave the room and exhaled audibly, nerves still coursing through him in heavy waves. He didn’t know if his ridiculous attraction in the midst of his medical emergency was helping or hindering his unease. What a stupid time to get a crush, and on the person in charge of fixing him, no less. Fixing him with pointy objects that pierce into his flesh. ‘ _Ugh. He’s probly a fuckin’ sadist_.’

He sat nervously tapping his foot against the chair, worrying his lip and rubbing it with his thumb, waiting and dreading the door opening again, but also just wanting to get it all over with.

About 10 minutes went by before Ian reappeared, followed by a small blonde woman who looked about the same age as the dentist himself.

“This is Karen,” Ian supplied. “She’ll be assisting me.”

Karen gave him a small smile and started setting things up next to him while Ian prepared the comical-looking black mask that would feed him the gas he needed to settle the fuck down and not bite this dude’s fingers off just for doing his job.

“Just relax,” Ian soothed, gazing down into Mickey’s panicked eyes with an unnerving amount of serenity as he lowered the mask down. “Just breathe normally. Don’t inhale too deeply. That’s it. Calm and natural. In and out. I’m going to help you feel better, okay?”

Mickey nodded emphatically, never tearing his eyes away from the green ones above, and Ian smiled wider under his laser-beam focus.

By the time the mask was off, Mickey felt cloudy and a little bit melty, like he was anchored to the big black chair beneath him, yet light as a feather somehow. He couldn’t really remember why he’d been so scared.

“Alright,” said Ian, “open wide.”

Mickey was able to follow directions as Ian examined his back molars on the right side of his mouth. It was quickly determined that the problem was with a wisdom tooth that had grown in just enough to break the surface of the gum, and was aggravated by the punch to an extent that it had cracked. In short, they needed to remove the impacted tooth, and to do it, Ian would need to inject him with a local anesthetic.

“Do you have anyone here to drive you home?” Ian asked.

“No, just me. I can take a cab.”

“Okay, we could call you a cab as a last resort, but you may be pretty out of it for most of the day. Is there someone you can call to come help you out for a while? You should be back to your normal self by nightfall. It’s probably a good idea to have somebody around until then.”

Mickey sighed, but didn’t resist. It was like he couldn’t get aggravated, or react the way he wanted to, but he wasn’t even frustrated about it.

“My sister, I guess,” he finally replied. “Mandy. Hopefully she’s not workin’.”

“Do you want Karen to try and reach her for you?”

“Uh, yeah. My cell’s right over there,” he said pointing at the counter he’d set it on earlier.

Karen handed him the phone and he scrolled through his contacts and pulled up Mandy, passing the phone over.

“She’ll probly greet you with colorful language, thinkin’ you’re me. Just ignore it,” he warned, shrugging.

They arranged it for Mandy to come in as soon as she could. Mickey would have to spend sometime recovering before he could leave after the procedure anyway, and they assured her he could wait in the recovery room until he arrived.

Mickey was surprisingly okay with Ian coming at him with a syringe and just sort of felt an odd sharp tingling when it sunk into the tissue around his bad tooth.

After that, everything sort of went black.

  


* * *

  


Mickey awoke with a start, groaning and reaching up to feel his jaw. Fuck, it felt weird. . . still kinda numb, but otherwise not so much painful, as just empty. He blinked his eyes slowly and wiped the gunky sleep out of the corners with his knuckles. His vision was still kind of swimming.

How the fuck had he gotten into his bed? He couldn’t even remember coming back to his apartment. It was still daylight outside, judging by the rays of light coming around the edges of the curtain over his small window in the corner. Had he been out of it enough to forget cabbing it home from the dentist?

As if on cue, he heard a clanging in the direction of the kitchen and a sharp, “Fuck!” He closed his eyes. Right. Mandy.

He laid around a little while longer trying to somewhat gather his bearings, then stumbled out of bed and towards the sounds of his haphazard sister.

“Yo,” he said quietly, nodding his head slightly and making his way to lean against the counter.

“Hey,” she said with a grin too wide for his liking. “How you feelin’?”

“I don’t know. Kinda weird. Spaced out.”

“You hungry? I picked you up a bunch of soft foods. You just can’t heat anything up too much or it could fuck up your clotting or some shit. I used your debit card and put it back in your wallet.”

“Nah, not right now. I feel too gross.”

“I got you some of that lemon-lime Gatorade you used to make Ma buy you when you were sick,” Mandy offered.

“Yeah, alright.”

Mandy poured him a glass and followed him out into the living room where he collapsed on the couch and made a grabby hand for the cup of neon sports drink. She rolled her eyes and handed it over.

“It’s almost time for your first pain pill. A couple more hours. I picked up your prescription while I was out too.”

“Damn, Mandy. Thanks for helpin’ out. Sorry I had to call you last minute. Did you have to call into work?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I got a girl to switch with me, so I’ll just be going in later. You should be okay, but I can come check on you tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t gotta do that. Just text me, bitch.”

“Whatever, we have more important things to discuss.” She smiled at him all knowingly, but Mickey had no idea what it was that she knew.

He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Hello? _Dr. Hot-As-Balls_? Redheaded oral surgeon man of your dreams?”

Mickey blinked at her and sighed. “You met Gallagher?”

Mandy furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes, still smirking. “How much do you remember?”

Mickey felt an icy chill course through him. That’s not a question he wanted to be asked right now. “Nothin’? I mean, after the part where he told me I needed the tooth pulled. It’s like a black fuckin’ hole. Same as like a drunken blackout.”

Mandy looked like the damn Cheshire Cat now, teeth shining, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t remember anything? Like. . . _at all_?”

“What the fuck, Mandy? If I did somethin’ dumb, just tell me. Don’t be a fuckin’ bitch.”

“Well, I mean, some of it is only hearsay. I wasn’t there for all of it.”

“All of it? What do you mean _all of it_?”

Mandy snorted and looked at the ground, playing with her foot a bit, stalling. “Well, I mean, you know how the doc was super hot?”

“Yeah,” Mickey stated, shrugging.

“So, I mean, you just told him _that_. Pretty much. And some other stuff.”

Mickey suddenly felt hot now, under the wave of embarrassment that crashed down on him. He wished he had a blanket to bury his head in.

“It wasn’t that bad, really,” Mandy attempted to assure him, settling in next to him on the couch. “You were drugged up and said some inappropriate shit to Hot Doc. Oh well. I’m sure he gets it, like, all the time.”

“What the fuck else did I say, Mandy? You can’t just gloss over it. I’ll find out somehow.”

“Uhhh, well, _I mean_ , so. . . you were focusing a lot on his hands, I guess. And so, you know, you were sort of elaborating on like how _big_ his hands were. . .”

Mickey groaned loudly and picked up a throw pillow to bury his face into.

“Yeah, you get the idea,” she finished.

“I asked him if he had a big dick, didn’t I?” he asked point blank, his voice partially muffled by the pillow he still had his face smooshed in.

“Yep,” Mandy affirmed with a prominent pop for emphasis.

“Goddammit, motherfucking, shit balls,” he replied.

She sighed. “I know,” and patted him on the arm in solidarity.

Mickey lowered the pillow and dared to look her in the eye. “Was that really the worst thing I said?”

“I _think_ so. I mean. . . _well_. . .” her voice kept going more and more high-pitched as she tried to stammer out a response.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Mickey exclaimed.

“You kinda said you wouldn’t mind _sucking_ it?” Mandy finally admitted.

“I SAID I WANTED TO SUCK HIS DICK?” Mickey’s voice got really loud.

“I mean, look at it this way, if you’d met at a club or something, it would be totally normal behavior. ‘Hey, you look like you got a big dick, can I suck it?’ And then you’d like hit the bathrooms or the back alley or whatever.”

“Mandy! We’re talkin’ about my dentist here. In a dentist’s office. Not the fuckin’ club. Pretty fuckin’ _far_ from the fuckin’ club!”

“Alright, I know, _jeez_ , calm down! Since when do you care what people think about you? He knows you were all fucked up, it’s not like he took it seriously.”

“I just. . . That’s not. . .”

“Wait a minute, do you _like_ him?”

“I don’t know him, Mandy. We talked about how I got punched in the face, and how I was scared of what he was about to do to me with his instruments of oral torture, and then he gave me a bunch of drugs, modified a part of my body forever, and then I hit on him awkwardly, andI can’t even remember it. What a great origin story!”

Mandy gasped, and smiled widely again. “You _do_ like him! You want him! You made a fool of yourself a little bit, and you can’t stand it, cuz you _looovvve_ him!”

“Shut the fuck up, Mandy! You’re aggravatin’ my condition. You can’t just go around dating your doctor. Besides, a guy who looks like that, _and_ he’s a doctor? Probly got a hubby back home.”

“So you know for a fact he’s gay, though?” she asked.

“Pretty sure. Got the vibe. He made a joke that made it pretty clear.”

“Okay, so, let’s say everything goes smoothly and you don’t have any complications with the procedure. Can’t you just go to a different dentist? I mean, was he even your dentist before? He doesn’t have to be your doctor, and then you could date him.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I like how you already have me _with_ this guy, just cuz I told you I might be interested.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you interested in anyone, okay? Don’t be a pussy, just cuz of one little setback. Say he doesn’t have a hubby at home? It’s a 50/50 possibility, right?”

“The fuck, Mandy? Just leave it alone.”

She eyed him for a while, frowning deeper and deeper, but finally turned away. “Whatever, ass-wipe, I need to get going soon. You need anything else while you have me? This is your _one_ day to get things outta me if you want ‘em.”

“Uh, yeah. Could you maybe make me a buncha those instant mashed potatoes you got and leave it out for me? I’ll eat some later and save the rest.”

“Sure. I got you some cheese and sour cream too.” She smiled.

“Thanks, bitchface.”

She flipped him off as she walked toward the kitchen.

  


* * *

  


The next day, Mickey still couldn’t shake his mortification from the day before, and what his sister had told him about his behavior toward Ian. He could call the office, try to catch the doc, and just blurt out a quick apology, but of course, being a writer and generally weary of confrontation in these types of situations, he decided to email instead. He had the info right there on the card.

> **To: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> **From: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> Dr. Gallagher,
> 
> This is an incredibly awkward email to send, but I just wanted to say that my sister filled me in on some of the choicest things I said yesterday when I was out of it, and I wanted to apologize. I can’t remember anything from the time I agreed to the tooth being pulled. Anyway, you can imagine my mortification. Thank you for helping me with the tooth. It already feels like a relief, even through the ache. Pills are helping, though.
> 
> Take care,
> 
> Mickey Milkovich

A couple hours passed before Mickey finally saw the notification he’d been waiting for. He clicked the email open on his laptop screen.

> **To: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> **From: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> Mr. Milkovich,
> 
> No need to apologize. I won’t hold it against you. There’s nothing to feel embarrassed or worried about. However, I am sorry to have to inform you that I can no longer see you as a patient. . .

Mickey stared at the screen in front of him, reading and re-reading the short message over and over again, growing more and more baffled by the ending that managed to somehow fade out, while also being abrupt. What the fuck was up with the use of ellipsis? Did that mean there was more coming? Had someone interrupted his draft and he’d sent it off anyway? What the actual fuck?

Another hour and change went by. He was doing a crossword in an open app on his computer when he saw another incoming message from Hot Doc.

> **To: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> **From: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> . . . I don’t think it would be professional.

Mickey glared at the screen in a state of total confusion. _Wouldn’t be professional._ To see him as a patient after he made one tiny little pass at the doc under the influence? Jesus, what a tight-ass. Or maybe he did have a significant other after all, and didn’t trust himself or some shit. He opened a reply window and began clacking out what he hoped would be the perfect sarcastic ‘fuck you’ response, when he heard another swoosh and saw yet another message.

> **To: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> **From: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> So, now that you’re no longer my patient, and I’ve released you to the care of someone more appropriate, how about you let me take you out sometime, when your mouth is properly healed?
> 
> Kind regards,
> 
> Ian

Mickey’s mouth hung open a bit as he went over the latest correspondence a few more times. Where the fuck had _that_ come from? Slowly, a smile overtook him, and he couldn’t help but feel a tiny flutter of excitement. He thought about it for a while and let a couple hours pass before he gave in and opened a reply.

> **To: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> **From: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> Not sure you’re completely out of the ethical woods on this one, doc, but let’s suppose I were to accept this shady offer you’ve sent to me on this day, through this, your official work email channel. . . What’re we talkin’ here? You expect me to suck your dick, just because I told you I wanted to? That what this is about?
> 
> Mick

This time he only had to wait a little over half an hour for his answer.

> **To: milkovich_writes@email.com**
> 
> **From: ian.gallagher.dds@crestview-clinic.com**
> 
> Hate to break it to ya, but if I wanted to get my dick sucked, it wouldn’t really be too hard a feat to accomplish. ;-)) I’m sure you get me. You don’t strike me as a saint yourself. But, you don’t need a reason to turn me down.
> 
> You have a good point about the official business email. I’m gonna have to get my brother to purge this shit. Here’s my #: 773-555-4237. Text me if you wanna.
> 
> Ian

Mickey waited a few hours before he entered the number into his phone and fired off a message. Ian should be long off work by now, he imagined.

> **Mickey:** I know what this transition to text actually means, ya know?
> 
> **Ian:** What’s that, then?
> 
> **Mickey:** Means you wanna show me the goods, or try to get me to show you the goods, or both.
> 
> **Ian:** Haha, you mean am I soliciting dick pics?
> 
> **Mickey:** Or offering.
> 
> **Ian:** Sounds like you’re the solicitor in this relationship, Milkovich.

Mickey chuckled. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t so bad at flirting after all. He’d never in his life felt like he’d ever gotten the hang of that kinda shit. He paused, trying to think what his best approach should be. He couldn’t believe the positive direction this was already going in. His phone pinged again.

> **Ian:** Ask and ye shall receive.

Mickey’s mouth dropped open, watering just a little bit at the most impressive dick pic he’d ever been sent personally. It was one for the Tumblr porn blogs. Holy shit, he’d been right about the doctor’s hands in relation to his crotch area. He was long and thick; deep pink, with a big enticing vein prominently running along the length. He was so hard, it looked like he was about to start leaking. Mickey tongued the side of his mouth.

> **Mickey:** Fuck you, this ain’t your dick. You’re fuckin’ with me.

Another couple minutes passed, then another pic came through. This time, Ian was in front of the mirror, smirking all big and proud, like he was rubbing the truth of his cock size right in Mickey’s face. He was gripping the base of it with his huge hand for effect, his balls drawn up tight against his body.

“Motherfucker,” Mickey breathed out shakily.

> **Mickey:** How do you expect me to live up to that exactly?
> 
> **Ian:** Haha, it’s not a competition, Mick. Don’t gotta live up to anything. Don’t gotta show me anything you don’t wanna. I just wanted to answer your question. It was purely educational. No pressure.
> 
> **Mickey:** I know you think you’re slick, but you’re not slick.
> 
> **Ian:** I think I’m pretty slick, actually.
> 
> **Mickey:** I’m assuming you’re a top then?
> 
> **Ian:** That a problem?

Mickey went to reply that it wasn’t a problem at all, when he froze with an idea. He laughed at himself for a moment, because fuck, he never considered himself a ‘sexting’ type of person, but this just felt like the right time to let that go.

He took his phone into the bathroom and checked himself out in the mirror, turning around and pulling his pants and underwear down, letting his bare ass pop out over the waistband. He _did_ have nice, plump, milky white, unblemished ass cheeks. He knew they were a feature that tended to drive men wild. It was kind of his _thing_.

He tentatively held the camera up and tried to figure out a good angle where he could get his ass looking its most juicy, and maybe manage to look somewhat alluring in the face area. Ugh, it just felt so stupid to be looking over his shoulder like that, and trying to relax his face to convey something other than ‘I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.’

He probably ended up taking about 30 shots before he finally got one he deemed passable. Almost 15 minutes had gone by. He fired the pic off to Ian.

Not even a full minute went by before his phone rang loudly, startling him.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Where the fuck do you live?” came a brusque voice on the other side of the line.

“Somethin’ got you hot and bothered, doc?” teased Mickey.

“Tell me,” demanded Ian, in a softer tone this time.

“Look, doc, the thing is I can’t even make that fantasy come true for you right now. I got this big hole in my mouth, if you remember? Can’t suck your dick today.”

“Who said anything about _you_ sucking _my_ dick? Nothin’ wrong with _my_ mouth, or _your_ dick is there?”

Mickey gulped and let out a little sigh he hadn’t meant to. He rattled off his address without any further ado.

“Don’t worry,” Ian said before he ended the call, “I’ll fuck that ass properly once you’re off your pain meds.”

The line went dead. Mickey about died with it.

All he had to do now was wait.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, Elfy! I hope you enjoy the prezzie. I had to modify the prompt a bit to accommodate the length that I needed to work with. Hope you don't mind.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> For: [ElfyDwarf (youknowyoutried)](http://youknowyoutried.tumblr.com/)  
> From: [Me](http://thevioletjones.tumblr.com/)


End file.
